Olden Days of Autumn
There’s a beauty that steeps on the inside
When teacups are tipped and sipped long
Table talks ‘til the break of dawn
As long as the teapot’s in song
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The water that boils is endless
One cup tints another for you
Whistling old tunes that reach to the moon
At nights end we are drinking pure dew …
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Olden autumn memories
Kelly Sampson Griswold